Tales of Florence
by Vicomtesse de Chagny
Summary: Florence is forced into an engagement with Gaston. After her mother's death, she leaves the village, loses her way and ends up in the Beast's castle. Even though he tries to get her to love him and break the curse, it soon becomes clear they are not meant to be. And yet, will Florence find love in that old castle? Or is someone waiting out there? CanonxOCxOC
1. Debts To Pay

_This is a re-written vesion of an old story I used to have on an old account. this is also the first thing I'm going to publish here, because why not. I still like the older version and at first I planned to just re-upload. but after looking over it with a friend and discussing it with her, I decided to re write it. It's still the same plot and many of the things that happened in the original still happen here. I just decided to expand the story a little, change certain things and so on. So same plot, but still very different. I'm also trying to write stories that are more "mature". That is, darker than the source material (don't get me wrong, I adore Disney movies for their lighthearted stories and fun characters, but while writing stories myself, I prefer drama). I'm also combining my first story (A Cold Winters Night) with it's sequel (florences Heart), so now it has an entirely different title._

 _One more thing, i know many people don't like it, but this story will feature songs. either self-written or from existing musicals/movies. Because one thing I really was embarassed by when looking over the old story where the really bad songs. So taking already existing ones seems like a better idea. I definitely want this to be a musical, since this is a Disney fanfiction and I just love musicals._

 ** _And of course, I need to mention that most of the characters, setting, etc. belong to Disney. the only exception are Florence and the other characters I made up for the story._**

* * *

„Have you seen the new girl?"

Florence raised her head a little, trying to catch the conversation between her mother and one of her clients, Madame Liliane Delacroix.

"The one who moved here with her father last month?" Isabelle Noel asked, while sewing the pale orange trim to the other woman's red dress. " I think her name was Belle, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Madame Delacroix answered, fixing her hair in front of the mirror. "I pretty, little thing, but…"

"Yes, I've heard. A bit odd."

Florence looked up and for a moment she caught her mother's glimpse.

"Reads all day, has no interest in social gatherings. Her father isn't any better. In fact I'd almost say he's worse. Kooky little inventor." Madame Delacroix chuckled. "I wonder what happened to his wife. I wouldn't be surprised if she packed her things and left."

Florence saw how her mother's eyes turned into a glare.

"I'm sorry. You know, I think it's a shameful thing to do, but with a man like him…"

"Yes, I know." Isabelle interrupted. It was obvious that topic made her uncomfortable. And Florence knew exactly why. A few years ago, her own father had left the family, eloping with a traveling actress, hardly older then Florence was now. After that, her mother fell into despair and the young, blonde girl resented her father for it. And Madame Delacroix knew all of that very well and yet she had the gall to say this! Florence hands clenched into fists. Not only was that snob bad mouthing the two only friends she had in this village, but she also dared to be so disrespectful towards her mother!

"Let's just say, that if I had a daughter like that, well, I'd die of shame and embarrassment. A woman that puts reading before her god given duties…"

Florence shot up in an instant her teeth and fists clenched tightly. But that obnoxious "lady" didn't pay attention to her, only admiring her old, wrinkled face-with way too much cheap make up caked on-in the mirror.

Again Isabelle glanced at her daughter, this time a little more stern. "Yes, what a thought," she added. "Florence, dear. Could you make some tea for Madame Delacroix?"

"Yes, Mother," the young woman mumbled, walking towards the stove to boil some water. She opened the cupboard in which they stored their tea, but Florence had to realize that there were no bags left. "Mother! We're out of tea?"

"Oh, I see." Isabelle said, not looking up from her work. Florence frowned. "Then go to one of our neighbors and buy some."

"Yes, mother." Florence said and opened the little box in which her mother kept all the money they had earned, little as it was.

"And maybe you could also go to the baker and get us a small loaf for dinner."

Florence nodded. She had almost reached the front door when her mother started to have a hard coughing fit. Not the first time in the last few weeks. "Mother…" Florence turned to her.

"Isabelle, are you alright?" Madame Delacroix asked. "Shall Florence go to get the doctor?"

 _I don't see why you couldn't go!_

"No…it's fine. Go, get the bread and tea, dear." Isabelle said. Reluctantly her daughter left the house.

* * *

After she got the bread she walked up the street that led to the edge of the village, where her two closest friends lived. She knew for sure that Maurice had a huge collection of different teas from different cultures. Her mother only cared about simple chamomile tea or other known kinds, but Florence enjoyed the taste of new things. For a moment she stopped to admire sunset, when also the first snowflakes of this winter hit the ground.

Suddenly she heard a worrying sound: a loud scream, out of an alley. Scared but curious she quietly approached and took a look behind the corner.

She saw a beat up man surrounded by two other men. One was small and rather unattractive. Florence knew him, his name was Le Fou. The other man she knew as well. How couldn't she? He was the most popular man in town: Gaston.

"This will teach you to not mess with Gaston!" the taller man explained. His buddy let out a spiteful laugh.

"Good one, Gaston!"

The third man, the blacksmith's oldest son Francoise, groaned in pain as he tried to get up.

"So, next time you owe me money you better pay! Got that?"

Francoise nodded weakly.

"And you won't tell anyone about this!"

Quietly Florence sneaked back out of the alley and continued her journey, hoping that no one had seen her. What would a brutal and sadistic man like Gaston do to her?

By now the snow fall had gotten much stronger and finally, she reached Belle's front door.


	2. The Traveling Trader

"Florence, sweetie!" Belle hugged her best friend tightly. "It's good to see you! How can I help you?"

"My mother wants me to ask for some tea."

Belle nodded. "I'll get you some." As she did so, Maurice, who sat at the dinner table reading a book about inventions throughout the centuries, spoke up.

"Why don't you stay for dinner, Florence. Soup will be done soon." he said, pointing at the boiling kettle over the fire.

"Gladly." the young woman said and said down. He thought back at what happened in that alley and bit her lip, nervously. Please, I hope he hasn't seen me!

"Are you alright?" Belle asked when she put the various tea bags in front of her friend.

"I...Belle? Have you met Gaston yet?"

"Huh?" Belle sat down beside her. "Well, I've only talked to him once or twice so far." She sighed loudly. "He was very obnoxious. I couldn't stand to be near him, else I might have lost my mind."

"Yeah..." Florence glanced down at her lap, not sure how to feel.

"The worst thing about that was that he was trying to flirt with me. I'm really not interested in that brute!"

Florence raised her head in shock. "I hope so, Belle. You have to know that he's a violent creep!"

Maurice nodded. "Is that so? Well, I always knew there was something off about him. He seemed too perfect."

Before Florence could say something, there was a loud knock at the door. Suddenly, her heart started to pound faster. Was that him? Did he come to make sure she'd stay silent about that murderous crime she witnessed?

Maurice however seemed rather exited. "That must be him!" Even Belle looked up from her book when she heard him say that.

He quickly walked over to the door and opened. "Hello, hello! Come in!"

The person that just entered the room was a tall, tanned young man. "bonjour, Maurice. Belle!" He said with a friendly smile. Then his eyes wandered to Florence. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle. I don't believe we've met yet."

"Um...Florence." she said, awkwardly brushing one of her blonde curls behind her ear.

"I'm Damian."

"Say, Damian. Did you get what I asked you for?" Maurice wondered.

"That's why I'm here!" the young man said with a smile. He opened the black satchel he wore and took out a strange looking tool. He handed it to the elderly inventor. Florence had no idea what it was, Maurice on the other hand thanked the trader. "This will be of great use to me!" Maurice grinned. Belle had gone outside to look at Damian's cart.

"Any new books?" she asked.

"Unfortunately not. Sorry."

"It's fine. But this..." she took a white apron. "This looks nice, an at least I wouldn't stain my dress as often while doing chores." After Maurice and Belle had paid the trader, he turned his attention back to Florence.

"If you'd like to take a look at my goods as well-"

"I have no money. I mean I do, but that's for the tea I-"

"Oh, Florence, you know we won't charge you anything for the tea bags." Maurice answered. "Just go and buy yourself something nice."

She nodded reluctantly as she and Damien stepped outside. she looked at all of his things. There were some that looked very precious, like a silver comb with diamonds and sapphires. The comb itself was shaped like a silver lily and the blossoms were decorated with those beautiful gems.

"This would look good on you," Damien said. Florence cheeks turned as red as a strawberry on a summer afternoon. In her head, she sighed. She always reacted like this when good looking men flirted with her like this. Not necessarily because she liked them back, but because she was just so damn shy.

"It is lovely, but...I could never afford this." she mumbled and showed him the few silver coins she had left.

Damian sighed. "What a shame."

Belle and Maurice looked at each other for a moment, until Maurice gave Belle a nod. His daughter understood and immediately went back into the house. Florence however was still looking at the comb. She had noticed the sentence written on the blossoms in a beautifully twisted letters.

"True beauty may come from within, but it shines as bright as a star in a cold winters night." She smiled. If only...

Suddenly, Belle returned, carrying something in her hand. "Damian, how about we trade. The comb for...this." She said, holding up whatever she was holding. Florence gasped when she saw exactly what it was. It was a pair of golden cufflinks. Both had a small emerald in the center.

Damien seemed unsure. "You'd just trade these for the comb?"

"They once belonged to my father. I'd never wear them myself, though," Maurice explained. "I'd always fear I could get robbed."

"So, will you trade them for the comb?" Belle asked.

"Belle you don't have to..." Florence said.

"But I want to! So, Damian, cufflinks for comb?"

Damian still looked at the cufflinks, not sure what to do. A few minutes went by, until he finally shook his head. "No."

"No?" Belle placed her hands on her hips.

"No." Damian took a small bag out of his satchel and threw it into her arms. "Because I'll give you some more."

"Oh. Belle opened the bag. There were several golden coins inside. "Thank you so much!"

"Well, then." Damian said, putting the cufflinks away, before saying his goodbyes to the old man and his daughter. Than he turned to Florence. He gently took her hand and kissed it. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle. I hope we'll meet again soon." Florence got even redder, but a part of her felt also...flattered?

"Thank you, Monsieur." She whispered. "Good bye!"

After the young man had left, Florence still smiled to herself. "Come on, girls! It's time for dinner!" The blonde and the brunette nodded, while giggling to each other.

"He's very charming, isn't he?" Belle asked with a grin. Florence knew her friend wasn't just teasing her. Damian's interest in the young, yellow haired girl had been more than obvious. And Florence couldn't deny it, she had felt very attracted to him as well. His ruffled, dark brown hair, which he wore bound together and went down to his back, his dark eyes an the few stubbles on his face. Not to mention his tanned complexion and well-toned body-or at least that's how his body seemed under all these seasonal layers of clothes. Florence felt a warmth fill her face. He was indeed the most handsome man she had ever come across. But looks are deceiving...No, she wanted someone where looks did not matter. Someone whom she could love for his soul without being distracted by his beauty or physical flaws. The best case she could imagine was someone she could fall in love with without knowing how he looked. but that wasn't possible now, was it?

"Oh, belle, the man I'm going to fall in love with needs to be more than just charming. He needs to be interesting, fascinating and he has to share my love for anything related to music and song."

"How romantic!" Belle said and sat down at the table.

* * *

After dinner, Florence left for home, following the snowy path back. More and more flakes touched her golden curls, but bravely she moved on, until she had reached her home.


	3. Invitation

"Once again,you've done an amazing work, Isabelle." Madame Delacroix admired her new dress in the mirror. It was a pastel purple dress, with pink puffed sleeves. She attached a big, sparkly brooch to her bosom. Just as her most regular customer liked it: big and showy. Isabelle gave her smile.

"I'm glad you are satisfied." the mother said, putting her needle tools into the cupboard. "If there's any other work you need."

"Not right now, but I'll contact you if I need something."

Isabelle Noel nodded. "Alright." She accompanied her friend to the door. "Then take care on your way home. It's dark already and that stranger is in town again."

"The trader?" madame Delacroix shook her head. "Oh, but the men of our village are all good, honest gentlemen. If they heard my cries for help, they'd come and save me immediately." she chuckled, while waving her fan in front of her nose.

"I guess you're right, but still..."

"I'll take care." the wealthy lady said, before stepping outside. "And remember what I said. if you don't marry her off soon, her beauty will fade and the only men she'll get will be drunks and pimps."

"Yes...I will take care of that."Isabelle said, before telling her friend good bye. Madame Delacroix disappeared into the night and Isabelle took the broom from the corner and swept the floor off her living room. The air was still filled with the scent of her customer's perfume. The distant church bell's told her, that it was seven o'clock. Florence still wasn't back and Isabelle got more worried. Though, she was almost certain that her daughter was with Belle and her father. Florence hardly interacted with the people at the village, but these two..."Why, of all people..." Isabelle mumbled. she knew her daughter was a lot like Belle, a girl most villagers would call "odd" if they knew. But Florence was the person most important to Isabelle and she was determined that her daughter would not end up like her father...or worse, her aunt. Isabelle bit her lip. Or like herself. Isabelle knew how it was to be a poor woman that worked all day, but by the end of the week it was just enough money for herself and her daughter to get by. How it was to be a young, naive maiden, falling head over heels in love with some sap that would leave you once the first wrinkles marked your face. How it was to be talked about behind your back, because your husband abandoned you and your sister practiced indecent business, only to be found dead in a river. Isabelle had lost any happiness many years ago. Except for her daughter, the only person she truly loved. And even though a marriage would mean for Florence to move out and for Isabelle to be truly lonely, her daughters happiness was her biggest priority. If only she knew a good man that could protect and provide for Florence...

* * *

Two weeks later, after the morning mass, Florence and Isabelle stood in front of the little church building, chatting with some of the other villagers. This included Madame Delacroix, who considered herself Isabelle's best friend.

"You know, my dear, why don't you two come over for lunch. Our housekeeper has made a wonderful Bouillabaisse and the main course will be lamb roast."

"Lamb roast?!" Florence immediately got hungry. She hadn't eaten any good meat in months and especially lamb meat always made her knees go weak. She didn't notice the little wink the Madame gave to her mother. Isabelle understood.

"Yes, thank you. That sounds wonderful." she said and promised they'd be there in two hours.

* * *

"Enough time to get yourself changed into something more suitable. Why don't you put on the new dress I made you?" Isabelle assked and gestured to a white dress.

"Isn't that...a little too fancy for a sunday noon lunch?" Florence asked. "Besides, I'd rather wear my pretty blue dress!" Florence said.

"You wear that almost every day, Florence. We got invited for sunday lunch. You should give the "fancy" dress a chance. I think it would be perfect, dear."

After almost an hour of sighing and refusing, Florence finally decided to give in. She put on the rather bland looking gown. It was a mostly white dress, the long, tight sleeves, the neckline and the skirt were lined with ruffles. Her mother pulled her hair into a very tight bun. She put on her silver earrings and and Isabelle handed her a brooch. What Florence didn't know was, that this had been given to her by the Madame to "accentuate her bosom to impress a suitor she had invited". Isabelle sighed. She didn't like the thought of presenting her daughter to some man like a slab of meat, but...her health was declining. And if Florence didn't marry soon, all she would have left was nothing.

When Florence looked into her mirror, she really didn't like what she saw. To add a bit of color, she wrapped a pale, yellow sash around her waist. Suddenly,the young woman had an idea. She went up to her room, to get the silver comb Damian had given to her. Quickly, she put it into her hair. "Now, it looks at least a little like me." she smiled.

"Where did you get that?" her mother asked.

"It was a gift."

"Who'd give you something that valuable for a gift?" Isabelle demanded.

"Come on, Mere. Not today!" Florence said with a groan.

Isabelle sighed. "Alright. You can tell me later. We've got ton leave anyway."

After they'd left their small house and while walking down the streets, Isabelle couldn't help but wonder who the surprise suitor would turn out to be.


	4. Death in the Snow

**Chapter 4: Death in the Snow**

"Isabelle, my dear! Florence!" Madame Delacroix hugged both of her guests, while leading them into her dining room. "Lunch will be served soon, however there is still one more guest to arrive!" She sat down at the table, while her maid took Florence's and Isabelle's old, worn out coats. Florence sat doen beside Madame Delacroix's oldest son, Frederic, and her oldest daughter, Sidonie. On the opposite side of the table were her youngest child, Sandrine, along with her fiance and father, Aubert. Sandrine was a lot like her father, grounded, soft spoken and gentle. Very much a contrast to her vain and shallow siblings, who took more after their mother. Her fiance, Jean, was a plain looking, but kind man, though rather poor. At first, her mother hadn't agreed with their relationship, but after she saw how happy her daughter was with him, she had given them her blessings.

"Bonjour, Florence." she said kindly. Florence returned the smile and greeting. Aside from Belle, Sandrine had always been the only person Florence considered to be a friend.

The doorbell rang and Florence knew that this had to be the last guest to be invited. She did not turn around when he entered the room, but noticed the large shadow falling over her. _Who might that be?_

"Oh, Sandrine, dear, would you might going one chair further, so our guest can sit there."

Sandrine gave her mother a confused look, but then nodded and did as she was told. Florence's heart almost stopped b eating when she saw that mountain of a man sitting down. "G...Gaston?"

"Bonjour, Florence." he said with a smirk. Florence drew back a little.

"Bonjour..."

The dinner was quickly served a finished, but all the while Florence couldn't really enjoy it. She just felt uncomfortable around the brute and even though she tried not to let it show, all she wanted was to just run back home. The worst thing was however, while eating, Gaston often shot her rather flirty looks and grins. What was he trying to do?

After the desert had been finished and Madeleine had cleaned the table of the dishes, Madame Delacroix raised her glass. "I think now it's time, Monsieur Gaston!"

He looked at her, nodding with a smile.

"You see, Florence, the reason we invited you is because Monsieur Gaston and me...oh, and your mother of course, had prepared a little surprised for you, right?" She looked at Isabelle and winked. but Florence's mother just returned a uncertain smile.

"Dear Florence," Gaston stood up, walked around the table and took, or rather grabbed, the young womans hand. "You may feel honoured and joyful, for I, Gaston, have made decision."

"A...a decision?" she asked, as she exchanged nervous looks with her mother.

"Yes! You shall be my bride!"

"WHAT?!" Florence shot up, looking at the other people in the room, all of them rather shocked about her reaction. "I, um, I need just a moment!" She slid her hand out of his fistz and ran upstairs. She still heard Madame Delacroix's words. "Young brides, always so shy."

She went out on to the balcony, looking over the snow buried village. Such a beautiful sight. She saw Maurice's and Belle's home, smoke coming out of the chimney. She saw them behind the window. laughing and talking. If only she could've be there instaed of here. She sighed, leaning forward. Maybe the height was not too much to kill her, she could just jump down and run...somewhere. Just away from this mess theses people had gotten her into.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder turning her around.

Gaston stood there, a grimace on his face. "What's taking you so long, woman?"

"I...I just..."

"Come!" he ordered. "The people down there want to be around when you accept."

"You big, idiotic moron! Accept? Why would I accept, after what you've done to Francoise!"

Gaston looked at her in surprised. "How do you...? Oh, yes, Le Fou thought he heard someone running away. I thought it had to be one of his hallucinations, but as it seems it was you, huh?" He grabbed her firmly by her arms. "So, what? He had it coming. One should never try to betray Gaston. Besides, doesn't every woman dream of marrying a strong, brave man liked me?"

"There is nothing brave about beating up people who are smaller than you."

The man just shrugged it off and dragged her towards him. "Either way, you will marry me. Your mother is poor, soon you'll have nothing left. Besides, what if...something ould happen to her?"

"W-what do you mean?" Florence asked in shock. "No, you...you wouldn't..."

"I won't...if you accept!" He leaned down and kissed Florence rosy lips. Furiously she slapped his face and shoved him away. Then she ran down the stair and without even grabbing her coat, she ran out of the house.

"Florence?!" Isabelle shouted, but she kept running.

"Wait!" Isabelle ran after her, trying to reach her, but suddenly she suffered another coughing fit and fell to the snowy ground. Florence turned around. "Mere!"

She ran back to her, trying to help her up. "Florence...all I want for you is...is to be happy."

"Mere, please...please."

"I'm sorry I wasn't always a great mother...but I hope you can forgive me..."

"Mother, you will live. Come, try to stand."

"I can't. I knew I had not much time left. Please, Florence, don't make the mistakes I..." Suddenly Isabelle fell limb. Florence clasped her mouth. "Mere...no...no!"

"Isabelle, what-?" Madame Delacroix ran over to them. "Oh no! Isabelle?! Isabelle!" She got on her knees, trying to wake her friend, but Florence, who slowly got up, knew that her mother would never rise again. She looked at the other woman with as much contempt as she could muster. "Your fault...it's all just YOUR FAULT!"

Through her loud voice, several villagers had caught their attention and came out of their houses.

"What's going on?"

"Why are you yelling like that?"

"Is that Isabelle La Noel?"

Madame Delacroix looked at her in shock, before the young woman turned around and ran off.

"Florence!"

But she didn't listen. Instead she ran straight out off the village


	5. The Gentle And Sweet Call Of Adventure

**Chapter 5: The Gentle And Sweet Call Of Adventure  
**

Florence ran for her life, knowing that Gaston was right behind her. He was still set on making her his wife, whether she wanted to or not.

"Come back!" he yelled. "Florence!"

But she did not. She kept running, until she reached a little stream. Frantically, she looked around only to be greeted by a huge tree with a huge, thickly grown treetop. Quickly she jumped up and grabbed one of it's branches, lifting herself up and hid behind the mess of leaves.

Finally, Gaston arrived, his shotgun clenched in his right hand. "Where are you, woman?" he shouted, looking around. Florence tried not to make a sound, but Gaston was apparently certain that she was here.

"Look," he said, throwing the shotgun away from him. "I have no desire to harm you, Florence. All I want for you is to agree to my proposal and become my wife. What's so bad about that? In fact, could you dream of something better than to be my wife?" When the silence remained, the hunter groaned in anger, picked up his shotgun and and stomped off.

Still, Florence waited half an hour until she climbed down. She had to be absolutely sure that the big idiot was gone. Now, where to go? The next village was almost two days away from here and without food and only a light coat on her shoulders, where to go. "Damn it." she muttered, as suddenly the memories of last night haunted her. Her mother. Lying in the snow. Dead. Well then, at least now there was nothing that kept her in that miserable village. For a moment Belle and Maurice crossed her mind, but she quickly shook the thought off. They'd get by without her. At least they had each other and they were strong enough to face the village's spite and malice. Florence, though...she was outta there. All she longed for was a peaceful life, only surrounded by people she loved and cared about. And it was a shame that Isabelle, Maurice and Belle wouldn't be able to be part of it. Still, she'd move on, find other friends. Maybe even a gentle and loving husband. He didn't even had to be handsome or dashing, just...understanding.

She walked down the road, when suddenly a carriage came to stop beside her. For a horrifying moment she suspected it to be Gaston or another villager. Then she saw a familiar pair of eyes. "Damian!" she exclaimed with a smile.

"Florence! So it is you!" He climbed down and both of them hugged each other. "My god, what are doing here, dressed so lightly in the snow?"

"It's a long story. If only I could warm myself by a fireplace. "She looked up. It was getting dark again.

"Y-yes, of course!" He helped her up the carriage and sat down beside her. On their way, she told him everything that happened, her gaze directed at the horse in front of her.

"Oh my. That...I'm so sorry, Florence." he said

"Please...don't. There is no need to feel sorry. At least now I have a reason to leave the village." she said, her eyes still cold.

"Oh...I see. I know that village isn't exactly the friendliest the place to stay. And getting engaged to that Bastard Gaston..." Damian looked away. "But your poor mother..."obs. Loud

"It's over now, though. I will put Gaston and the other villagers behind me, start anew."

"That seems like a good idea." Damian agreed.

Once they finally arrived, Damian opened the door and asked Florence to come in. It was cottage, somewhere in the forest.

Florence smiled. What a cute, little home. Damian gestured to the chair in front of the fire place. "You can sit down there."

As soon as she did so, he took a blanket and put it over her lap. Over the fire was a small, boiling cauldron.

"Dinner should be ready soon. Of course you may stay until you found a new place to stay."

"That is very kind, but...I'm only staying tonight."

"Oh," Damian turned to her. "But why?"

Florence pulled the blanket tighter. "If someone from the village finds out you're helping me...I bet Gaston is telling them all kinds of lies this very moment. They'll come after me...and you."

Damian shook his head. "I can deal with a couple of villagers, I'm not a child."

"Well, neither am I!" Florence snapped and glared at him, until she saw Damian's surprised face. Her gaze softened. "I'm sorry, but I don't want you to get hurt because of me. I will deal with it on my own."

"Yes, I see." Damian said and turned away from her, stirring the flames. But a sound made him turn around again. Sobbing. He gulped when he saw Florence, her face red, her eyes swollen and wet, her arms tightly hugged around her. He wanted to do something to console her, when suddenly she got up and wrapped her arms around him.

"It's alright," he whispered, reluctantly stroking her back.

Florence couldn't stop her tears from flowing, but here, in the arms of a stranger, she at least felt safe again. _How foolish of me_.

"Could...could you do me a favor?" she asked, still sobbing and pulling away from him.

"What is it?"

"Could you go to the village tommorrow, to my old home and fetch me clothes? All I've got is this dress and-" she looked at the torn and stained white dress.

"Well, if you tell me where it is, sure." he said with a smile. Florence returned it and hugged him again, this time a little more enthusiastic.

* * *

The next morning, Damian traveled the roads and alleys of Florence's home village. What was it called? He forgot, however, he had been here many times, selling his goods to the more or less friendly inhabitants. He saw the house, which Florence had described to him and indeed, the words "Isabelle LaNoel-Seamstress" were written above the front door. He pulled his horse to stop and climbed down. He took the key Florence had given to him and unlocked the door. Luckily, no one else was to be seen, it was way too early and too cold for most people.

The room was very dark, but Florence had told him where he could find candles and matches. Still, he had to walk to the other side of the room, only the moonlight guiding him. After he had lit a candle, he walked up the stairs to Florence's bedroom. It was the only other room and judging by the bed downstairs, beside the fire place, her mother had slept in the main room. He opened the closet and took all the dresses he could find, as well as a nightgown, two pairs of shoes and-and he was a little uncomfortable taking them-some underwear. Everything Florence needed to star a new life.

He left the house again, locked the door and took the clothes to his carriage. He let out a relived sigh, happy that no one had noticed him ent-

"And what do you think are you doing?"

He swiftly turned around, to see a short man behind him, hands on hips, glaring at him. Damian didn't know what to say.

"I'm talking to you, salesman!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Damian answered. He couldn't tell anyone about Florence, after all.

"Well," the little man looked at him smugly. "I think you do." he said with a cackle. "This is my house. I bought it this morning. Everything in there is mine!" He took out a piece of paper and indeed, it was a bill of sale.

Damian shrugged. "That's nice, Le Fou. None of my business, though. I was just checking if Madame LaNoel was home."

"Don't you know? She's dead."

Of course he did, but still he made an expression as if he had not heard of this tragedy before. "Oh...I'm sorry."

"Eh, don't tell me that. Tell that to poor Madame Delacroix. She was her favorite seamstress. And now she is upset that she won't get any new clothes from Isabelle."

Damian narrowed his eyes. " _That_ is the reason she is mourning." He knew that shallow, old toad and wasn't at all surprised. Poor Isabelle. And poor Florence. "Didn't she have a daughter?"

"Yes," Le Fou answered. "But that ungrateful thing just ran off, into the night, before her mother breathed her last breath. And as my friend Gaston told me, she was hurling the worst insults at her poor old mom, shaking her until she collapsed."

Damian clenched his teeth, knowing that this wasn't at all what happened. "That does indeed sounds quite bad." He turned around. "Well, I've got to go now. Goodbye." He climbed up his horse, turned it around and left Le Fou behind.

* * *

Florence was behind the cottage, looking down ther cliff. The view was unbelievalble. The cool winter sun rose and the snow covered worls sparkled in the most beautiful colors. A small path led down to the valley and it sparked Florence's need for exploring and adventure. She sighed.

 _Adventure, it calls me_

 _And I am no longer forced to ignore it_

She put a foot on the path, but quickly pulled back. Then again, who should stop her but herself?

 _No mother or husband_

 _Can stop me from living my dream_

She walked back around the house and stepped on the frozen pond in front of the cottage.

 _And now I am searching_

 _For the perfect adventure of live_

 _That is waiting for me_

She made a few circles on the ice, before twirling around to the shore.

 _Alone or together_

 _Who shall be dreaming with me?_

* * *

 **Finally the first song in this story. This one was written by myself and while nothing special it is better than in my older stories, so...Though it's easier if you imagine it to the melody of an already existing song. This is fanfiction, so I guess that's alright to do. There will be some existing songs later (generally musicals or animated movies), since they are obviously better, haha. If you don't like musical fics, fine, but I do, so I will keep adding songs.**


	6. Show Me The Light

**This time you'll hear a song from an (not that popular) animated movie. And how fitting, it is a Christmas movie as well. An animated adaption from "Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer" from the 90s. It's actually a romantic song in the movie, but here it's about friendship. So I changed a few parts.**

 **Also, sorry that it took me that long to continue, but now I'm back. Yay! Here is where Florence's story takes a different direction than my original fanfiction. I will go into greater detail in the next chapter. I have to admit, the inspiration was my friend Jess and her character Michelle. She hasn't really gotten to that part in her story due to her internet break, but since I already know...well, you might understand when the next chapter comes out.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Show Me The Light**

The elderly tea pot gazed out of the window. One week til Christmas, but what did it matter? The Master wouldn't allow it, as always. It was a shame really, when had been the last time she had celebrated with her son and friends? With Chip eagerly ripping off the paper from the box. The choir singing as beautiful as angels. With Lumiere chasing around Cogsworth with a Mistletoe, just to tease his old friend a little and getting a good laugh out of everyone. The celebrations had always been joyous. Even the Prince was pleasant on that day, for most years. Until last Christmas. He had acted as nasty as never before and that hadn't even been the worst part of the Christmas eve. And now? She sighed.

"You have given up hope as well, didn't you?"

She turned to see one of her oldest friends, Lumiere, approaching her. "No," she said, hiding her tears. "That will never happen, dear. At least one of us needs be optimistic, don't you think?"

"Well, I guess so. The Master certainly isn't." The candelabra shook his head. "He should act like a leader and guide his people through our darkest time, but...well," He sighed. "What can we expect from him, anyway. He got us into this mess!"

"Hush now. I think he can hear us."

"Where is he?"

"With _him_."

Lumiere understood immediately whom she was talking about. "Sometimes I think he enjoys the Master's sorrow."

"He says he just wants to help him forget and stay realistic about our horrible curse, but to be honest, I think Forte could turn the kindest heart into a black hole."

"You mean...you think it was him who caused his Highness to become worse with each year, until that damned Enchantress decided to show up."

"No doubt."

Lumiere and Mrs. Potts turned around, to see no one else but old Cogsworth, sternly looking over to them. „I wish I had done something about him when I still could.."

„Don't worry about him, Mon ami." Lumiere smiled. „If he doesn't help the Master regain his hope, then we shall!"

„And how do you think could we be able to..."

„I think Lumiere's right, Cogsworth." Mrs. Potts interrupted. "The Master needs us now more than ever. It's only a little more than a year, until..."

All three of them looked at each other, frowning.

"Yes! We can't stay like this forever!" Lumiere exclaimed.

"What would I give to be human again." Cogsworth gushed.

"And even someone like our Master deserves a chance at redemption and happiness." Mrs. Potts added gently. "Well, it's getting late now. I better get some sleep before dawn."

"Yes, Cogsworth agreed. "I'll check if everything is in order, then I'll go to bed as well."

"And me and Babette wanted to meet in the tower." Lumiere said, as if he had just remembered their date. Then he cocked his eyebrows and grinned.

"Lumiere, just...don't do anything you might regret." Cogsworth warned him.

"Oh, no. I've got to go!" He quickly left the room, leaving his friends behind. Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts just nodded at each other, before their ways parted as well.

* * *

In the West Wing, the castles Master, a hideous Beast, sat in his chair, staring at the crackling flames in his fire place and dreaming of a day, he'd regain his once human appearance. His court composer, Maestro Forte, a tall, big organ, was playing beside him, a rather gloomy tune.

"Do you think-" the Master began, "that we will be human again one day?"

Forte heard the Master's doubt in his voice. Perfect. Just how he liked it. While every other person in this castle believed that becoming human again was the preferable way of living, he knew better. He knew how painful and depressing a human's life could be.

"Oh, Master. You shouldn't get your hopes up. Besides, there is no one in this castle that could love a Beast like you." the organ answered, secretly smirking. "Please, don't take offense. We simply shouldn't kid ourselves."

The Master nodded, his head leaning on his fist. "No one could love me!" he growled. Sighing he stood up, stopping Forte in his doings.

"Leaving already? Why?"

"I'm tired, Forte! I...I need to rest." the Beast said, rubbing his forehead. "I'll return tomorrow night."

After he had left for bed, Forte groaned. "He is still hopeful...why could he be so foolish?"

"I-I don't know, Meastro." his assistant and pupil Fife answered. He had been turned into a flute.

"Oh, well. He'd need to fall in love with someone...someone to love him back. That will never happen. A dark-hearted Beast falling in love. What a ridiculous idea. And which woman could love him. They are all shallow creatures."

"I don't think you should say that, I-"

"What?!"

"I mean, there are a lot of kind and compassionate women here. Mrs Potts, Babette, Madame Grande Bouche. The only one who is truly shallow is that...that Nicole."

Forte sneered. "Trust me, they are all alike. Nicole is simply one of the few silly enough to not hide it."

Fife shook his head. He couldn't really believe what his mentor said. He wondered, though, what had made the organ become so bitter about women and love in the first place. "Maybe you just never met the right girl...?"

"And what makes you think I want to meet "the right girl"?" Forte sneered.

"Well, I...who doesn't want to be loved by someone?"

"Love...love is useless, painful and...immature!" Forte grimaced, just thinking about this word would have turned his stomach upside down-if he had one. "There is no one, not a single woman in this world, that I could ever love!"

* * *

"Florence, dinner is ready!"" Damian said. Florence, who was again standing in the snow at the edge of the gorge, turned around to see him at the door. "Oh, good!" she smiled, rushing inside, where she hang her wet cloak over the fireplace. To dry. Damian returned the smile. It had only been a day, but he had cherished every second together with her. He looked into her sapphire eyes and at her mouth, which she had curved to a gentle smile.

They sat down by the table and ate the bread and cheese Damian had prepared. Since he had a small stable behind the cottage, with two female goats living inside, he always made the cheese himself. He was also an excellent baker. Florence felt a little ashamed that her own skills regarding food where so poor.

"Florence, you said you were scared Gaston would find you drag you back to that place." Damian said. "I was thinking...what if you were...married?"

"Married?" Florence looked at him, her big, almond shaped eyes glistening from the fire light.

Immediately he felt ashamed. Of course he was going to imply that she should marry him. But that wasn't right! taking advantage of her situation, especially since he didn't even knew if she returned his feelings. Then again, he was ready to live in a chaste, platonic marriage, if that was what Florence needed and would keep her safe from the Gaston.

"Well, he wouldn't court an already married woman, I guess. There are many men who would be glad to be married to someone like you...the real you, not the pretty face men like Gaston care about." He sighed. "There is another town, Bienvenuemaison. Unlike your hometown, the people are friendly and happy. You might find someone who'd be a respectful and loving husband."

"That...is a nice idea, Damian. But the truth is...I could never marry a man I didn't love and, well...I have never been in love." She said, closing her eyes.

Damian felt a shap pain in his chest, but he understood. They hardly knew each other. "Still, you should go there. It's a bigger town and I know a few people that would hire you. There is a Madame Lys, who owns a grocery store. She's always looking for some help. Just tell her you know me."

Florence nodded and ate the lat bid of bread on her plate. Alright. Do you have a map? I'd like to leave tonight."

Damians eyes widened. "Florence, it's dark already and freezing cold. There are wolves in that forest. Please, at least wait until dawn."

"No, the farther I get from that place, the better."

* * *

"Good bye, Florence. I will miss you." Damian said with a sad smile. Florence put her hand on his cheek.

She now wore a dark blue dress-her favorite. There was gold colored trimming on her skirt and sleeves and a black sash between bodice and the ankle long skirt. She put a black hairband into her light, ash blonde hair, contrasting the pale color of her curls. Damian sighed mentally. Which such a look she wouldn't have any problems finding a husband to protect her from that violent buffoon.

"Me too. But don't worry, we shall meet again, I promise." She gave him a kiss on the cheek, before putting her thick cloak over her dress, grabbing her bag and leaving the cottage.

"Good bye!" she shouted, before she walked down the path, that led her down the chine.

"Walk slowly and be careful, alright? The path could be frozen!" Damian yelled, but Florence already couldn't hear him anymore.

Hours passed and then a day, the food she had taken with her was gone by now. Florence looked at the beautiful sunset in the distance. "It's getting colder. Oh my, if I can't find something to eat I will starve. If I don't freeze first, that is." she mumbled to herself. With every step, her eye lids grew heavier. "Is that my fate. To die in the freezing cold?" Her thoughts went to Belle. Her best friend. Tears filled her eyes when the realization finally set in: She would never see her best friend, her sister in mind, again.

 _I'm out here on my own_

 _To face the day alone_

 _I need your care to help me through the night_

 _I'm lost out in the cold_

 _I want someone to hold_

 _I feel you're near, though you're out of sight_

 _And even though we're far apart_

 _I search the moonlit sky_

 _I make a wish you'd be here with me_

 _Can't you hear me cry?_

 _Hear me cry_

 _Show me the light_

 _Someone to lead and guide me_

 _Show me the light_

 _A friend to stand beside me_

 _Show me the light_

 _When I fear the dark_

 _A ray of sunshine, a rainbow's arc_

 _Show me the light_

* * *

Belle was outside their home, feeding the animals. Ever since Florence had left, Belle hadn't been able to think of anyone or anything else. What happened to her friend?

Gaston had told some wild stories about her poor friend-that she had to be dead, mauled by wolves or bears- but neither Belle nor Maurice believed a single one.

"I hope...no, I know she is still out there. Alive. Maybe even...happy..."

 _I'm reaching for a star_

 _Wondering where you are_

 _Where is the light searching for me too?_

 _Beyond the mountain top_

 _The dream will never stop_

 _Give me a sign_

 _I'm running out of time_

* * *

Florence felt something. It was as if someone, a soft and gentle voice had called her name. She looked ahead and saw a glow in the distance. And the voice kept telling her to follow it.

 _And I know someone is on their knees_

 _Praying for me now_

 _Won't you come and hear my pleas?_

 _Save me_

 _Oh, save me somehow_

 _Show me the light_

 _Someone to lead and guide me_

 _Show me the light_

 _A friend to stand beside me_

 _Show me the light_

 _When I fear the dark_

 _A ray of sunshine, a rainbow's arc_

 _Show me the light_

Suddenly, she stumbled, falling into the snow. She kept lying there. Now she would freeze. Why did she leave in the middle of the night? She was such a fool!

"Help..." she whispered. Suddenly, she saw a blinding light. Looking up, she saw a berry. It was golden and radiant. She knew that couldn't be normal, but she was so hungry. She reached out for the fruit of light, picking it and slowly putting it in her mouth, chewing it. She enjoyed every second, before she finally swallowed the berry.

"Now your fate is sealed!"

"What?" Florence asked, but she suddenly realized that her body was no longer on the ground. She was...floating! She wa too weak to struggle when her body began to fly. She just saw something big coming closer. A house?

No.

A castle!


	7. Meeting the Beast

**Chapter 7: Meeting the Beast**

When Florence opened her eyes, she was hit by the bright rays of the winter's sun. She sat up looked around, her head still hurting. She was in a very comfortable looking room. Wherever she was, it had to be a pretty fancy house. She saw a dress hanging on the wardrobe door. Since her own dress was torn and dirty, she figured it was meant for her. She was a bit worried undressing in a stranger's home, but once she was certain she was completely alone in that room, she pulled off her dress and underwear and changed into the other clothes. It was a pretty, mint green dress, with a very pale blue trim. At the end of each sleeve were white ruffles. She didn't care much for those, but at least she no longer wore the torn, dirty, wet dress. Looking around, she saw her bag on a chair. Her own clothes were still in there, so she let out a relieved sigh. Then she turned to the big mirror beside the wardrobe. Her hair looked pretty bad. She took the silver comb out of her bag and fixed her platinum blonde hair. Then she took a hairband and tied it into a side bun. Not perfect, but presentable. Florence looked outside It was still snowing like crazy. Tiny flakes danced to the sound of the cold december winds like beautiful ballet dancers.

"You're awake, I see!"

Florence flinched. "Who's there?!"

She didn't saw anybody. But that voice...she wasn't imagining things, was she?

"You poor dear!"

Florence turned to her left. There was nothing but an old wardrobe. A wardrobe...with a face?! Quickley, Florence backed away from that unsettling sight. The wardrobe giggled. "Don't be frightened, my dear. Just let me explain."

Florence wasn't sure if she was losing her mind or dreaming, either way she realized eating that berry had been a horrible decision.

"You see, my dear, this castle is enchanted. I was once part of the castle's staff. But our Master, a young Prince, was a spoiled and cruel man. One Christmas eve, an old beggar woman knocked on his door. But when she begged him to let her inside, to seek shelter from the bitter cold, he turned her away. She offered him a rose in exchange, but he just sneered at her. We all felt sorry for her. But then, when we were just about to continue our Christmas celebration, her ugliness melted away and revealed a beautiful Enchantress. She punished our Master, by turning him into a Beast and us into objects. Ever since, we are waiting for someone to fall in love with him, whom he can love in return."

"Well, good luck with that." the blonde girl mumbled. "Most girl's aren't into cruel Beasts."

The wardrobe sighed. "Yes, we all are aware of that." Then she smiled weakly. "But one should stay hopeful, right, dear?"

Florence raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms. "You do know this whole story sounds pretty crazy, right?" She looked at the one she had spoken too and frowned. "Then again, I'm talking to a wardrobe."

"Well, I suggest you go downstairs. The Master wants to see you."

"The Master...the Beast?!"

The wardrobe nodded. "He found you last night, in the entrance hall. You were unconscious and almost frozen to death."

"He...he saved my life?"

"Yes. Now go!"

Florence hesitated. Even if he had saved her life, he was someone so cruel, he got turned into a monster. The wardrobe said he needed a girl to love. Was that their plan? Sacrificing her to that creature? She shuddered. Still, it seemed like a bad idea to provoke that Beat. She decided to meet him downstairs and while doing so, she'd look for a way to escape.

She left the room behind and slowly went down, carefully analysing the castle. There were many huge windows, maybe she could look for one that wasn't too high and climb out.

"This way, Mademoiselle!"

She looked to the bottom of the stairs and saw a candelabra and a clock in front of her. The candelabra gave her a wide grin and gestured towards her. "Don't be shy, Cherie. The Master awaits you!"

"And he isn't the most patient person, so we should hurry!" The clock said, pointing at his face.

Florence wasn't sure what to think of this, but she did as she was told.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle. My name is Lumiere and this-" He gestured to the clock beside him. "Is Monsieur Cogsworth, Head of the household and biggest in killjoy in all of France."

Cogsworth glanced at Lumiere, trying to hold back an insult. "Anyway, let's just get moving. The Master is in the living room and he was rather worried when we found you. We thought you were dead? But fortunately we noticed your breathing and took you up to your bed room. How do you like it so far?"

"Honestly, as grateful as I am that you gave me shelter from the cold, I've heard that your Master is a Beast. That's...alarming, to say the least."

"Oh, yes...well, maybe you will Change your mind once you met him." the Clock said, though he sounded unsure.

Florence wasn't too sure about that. But maybe he was reasonable. She kept following those two objects, before walking straight into another room. It was warm inside because, even though it couldn't be later than 4:00 p.m in the afternoon, it was rather cold and so they had lit the fire place.

Florence sat down in a cozy arm chair, staring at the bright flames of the fire. That reminded her at the fruit she ate last night. That light. That glow. Who was that voice? What had happened?

"You're awake, I see."

Startled, she turned around. Behind her was animal of some sort. He was huge, had horns, fangs like a boar and a fluffy coat. Florence smiled.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. Just...I expected something way more frightening than, well, that." She pointed at him. "Hardly beastly."

The Beast looked at her critically. "Don't lie to me. I know I am hideous."

"Hideous..." Florence mumbled. "I have met truly hideous creatures in my life. Masking themselves with human faces, but underneath there was nothing but filth and hate. I wouldn't be surprised if your beast-like appearance hides a heart of gold and a pure soul."

The Beast was taken aback by her genuine words, but his gaze softened. "You don't even know me..."

"At this point I'm more willing to trust a Beast than another human."

The Beast looked at her with curiosity, then he scoffed at her. "That's a foolish thought!" he exclaimed. "Well then, you may stay for now. Make yourself at home. However, you must dine with me tonight!"

Florence nodded, before the Beast rushed out of the room.

"Dinner with the Master? Splendid! This is going well!" Cogsworth said with a grin, rubbing his Hands together.

"Now, ma cherie" Lumiere said. "Why don't you go back to your room and get yourself ready for dinner?"

Florence sighed. She wasn't sure if all of this was a good idea, but if he was to let her stay it would have been ungrateful to deny his request. She did as she was told and went back to the stairs that led to the east wing. But just when she had almost reached the top, she slipped on the smooth surface of the stairs and fell backwards.

"Mademoiselle!" Lumiere yelled. He and Cogsworth rushed Forward to catch her. Florence screamed, closed her eyes, reached out for...something! But she never landed. Instead, she felt light, as if she were floating. Was she dead? Minutes passed and Florence opened her eyes. She wasn't on the ground. No, she was indeed Floating above it, surrounded by bright, golden light. Just like last night!

Lumiere and Cogsworth stared at her, their jaws dropped, their eyes widened.

"M-Magic!" Cogsworth muttered. "This has to be Magic!"


	8. A Magical Gift

Florence landed, one foot after another.

"Now, I expect an explanation!" Cogsworth said, folding his arms.

"I wish I could explain this. This happened before, last night. I thought it was just a dream, but...I guess I really ate that berry and now I can...fly?"

"Berry? Mon dieu, what are you talking about?" Lumiere asked.

Florence told them everything that happened last night. How she almost starved to death in the bitter cold, until a golden, glowing berry grew from the snowy ground.

"I don't know. We've had enough magic for several lifetimes." Cogsworth answered, biting is lip. "Maybe you shouldn't stay after all."

"But, mon ami, think about it. Maybe floating isn't the only thing Florence can do!" Lumiere exclaimed, grabbing his friends cheeks and squishing his face in excitement.

"Yes, Lumiere, that's exactly what I'm thinking about. And that worries me!" Cogsworth said, pushing him off.

"I think it's a great opportunity!" Lumiere said. "Think about it, if Florence practices her abilities, maybe she can lift the spell. Besides, we can't just throw her out again. It's freezing out there!"

"Wait a minute!" the girl yelled. "I-I don't even understand all of this myself. Maybe this floating is all I can do! Maybe this magic could be dangerous and make everything even worse for all of you. Maybe-"

"I agree with Lumiere!"

All of their heads turned to see the Beast. He slowly walked over to them, a thoughtful look on his face. "There is no hope that I will break the spell myself. The enchantress knew that! All of this was just a cruel joke, for her amusement!" He growled. "If Florence truly is able to do more than float...this could be our last hope!"

"Or our _doom_!" Cogsworth objected. "Master, please! I don't think this is a wise idea and-"

"Stop being so selfish, Cogsworth!" Lumiere yelled. Cogsworth stared at him, an offended look in his eyes. Lumiere continued. "You should _know_ how much _all of us_ suffer from this curse. We don't have much time left! We _have_ to take risks! Cowardice won't lift this spell, that's certain!"

Florence was caught in her own thoughts, looking at her hands. She didn't understand what was going on. Talking objects, a Beast and now she had magical abilities? She took a deep breath, biting her lips. Then she put on a wide smile.

"Yes,-Lumiere was it? I think you are right. Maybe all of this wasn't a coincident. I ate the berry and the magic took me here. Yes, it has to mean...something, right?"

"Exactly!" Lumiere agreed and shot Cogsworth a smug look. "Master?"

The Beast scratched the back of his head. "It's the only chance we might get. How high is our chance for another woman to find this castle?"

"Oui, your Highness. As I said, taking risks is all we can do now. Now, Mademoiselle, why don't you get upstairs and get dressed for dinner? I'm sure Madame de Grande Bouche will help you pick something dazzling."

Cogsworth still looked uncertain and while Florence went to her room-her smile slowly fading- and the Beast went back to his-not sure if he made the right decision-, he turned to his friend and whispered:"Don't you think it would be easier to...well, break the curse the way the Enchantress intended?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, now we've got Florence?"

Lumiere sighed. "With his appearance and nasty temper, I doubt she could learn to love him."

Cogsworth shook his head. "I know, I know, but this whole magic thing...I don't feel comfortable having another Enchantress around. Maybe we should forbid Florence from using her potentially dangerous powers and instead..."

"But Lumiere merely shook his candle head. "Cogsworth, I know. I never believed in magic before this-" he gestured to his body. "-happened to me. But nine years have taught me otherwise and the rose doesn't look like it will last for more than a year or two. Cogsworth, think about our friends-no! Our family! Mrs Potts, Chip, Babette, Madame de Grande Bouche! Everybody!Heck, even Forte!" They ended just above her elbows.

Cogsworth gulped. It was true. While most of the staff had gotten along before the enchantment, they had become a true family afterwards. All of them, except for..."Well, I wouldn't call Forte or his little butt-kisser Fife part of our family...and then there is Nicole. If someone deserves to be stuck as an object, it's her."

"Now, Cogsworth. That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"If only for the fact that she always cries about missing her oh-so beautiful face!" Cogsworth face suddenly changed to a look of horror. "And then there is...well, you know."

"He wasn't part of the staff, Cogsworth! He's locked away and once we're human again, I'm sure the Master will take care of him."

"What if we turn back human and he escapes, Lumiere? What if he does it again?!"

"Calm down." The candelabra gently put his "hands" on Cogsworth's shoulders. "He won't. The room and the corridor are locked up. The only way he could ever get out is the window and it's too far up there."

"Besides," a woman's voice said. "The only way away from the castle is through the woods, full of wolves. He could never make it on his own."

They turned around to see Mrs Potts behind them.

"Oh, Mrs Potts. Um, we were just...we were..."

"I know who you were talking about." she said sternly. "Trust me, I'd be the first to give him what he deserves. But he is all locked away and we are save for now. Besides-" Her expression softened a little. "Cogsworth might has a point. I'm not saying that she shouldn't use her gift. It might work. But helping the Master to impress her and win her affection wouldn't hurt, now would it?"

"You mean playing "match-makers"?" Lumiere thought about it for a minute, before making a decision. "Agreed. Now, excuse me. I have a rendezvous with a certain, lovely feather duster tonight."

* * *

Florence looked into the mirror, admiring the lovely dress the wardrobe had given to her. It had an emerald green bodice and skirt, which ended just above her ankles. The trim of her skirt had a red rose pattern Her sleeves were white and a little puffed. They ended just above her elbows. "Gorgeous! My mother was a seamstress and not a bad one, but even she could never have made such a lovely dress!"

"Oh, you do look nice, my dear. You actually remind me at someone."

Florence turned around to face the tall wardrobe. "I do?" she asked, puzzled.

"Why, yes. There was that village I used to go to, to buy some fabrics and the likes. I remember, there was this seamstress. Her name was Isabelle."

Florence flinched, but Madame de la Grande Bouche didn't notice.

"A rather, stern and uptight lady, but polite and nice nonetheless. Her husband had just left her for some hussy-um, I mean, a young actress. Anyway, she had a sister-in-law who helped her out after that unfaithful bugger ran off. Her name was Annabelle Dantés."

Florence closed her eyes, thinking about her aunt. She had loved her very much, but then...

"A sweet, passionate young woman. A little too passionate, if rumors were to be believed."

Florence felt tears filling her eyes, knowing _exactly_ what Madame de Grande Bouche was referring to. And those rumors...they were true. All of them.

"Apparently, the methods she used to earn her money weren't very...wholesome."

"Yes, I met her, it was the village I used to call home! She was kind-hearted but..." Florence fought back the urge to cry. "...but she made mistakes and those led to her early...her early death..." Florence sobbed. "She was my aunt, you know."

"Oh, dear. I had no idea." Grande Bouche said, blushing in shame. "How did she die?"

"She drowned." Florence shook her head. "It's too painful to think about it!"

"I see." the wardrobe sighed, a little disappointed to miss out on all the details of this tragedy.

Florence still remembered that cold day, Christmas eve nine years ago. Not cold enough to freeze the raging river that flew through the forest. They found her in there. Dead. How did she get there?

Isabelle always thought it must have been a client. Or Annabelle had been plain drunk. _"I told her to stop this! I offered her to become my assistant. She refused..."_

Her mothers words echoed through Florences mind.

"I guess she had it coming."

"What?"

"Well, let's talk about something else." Florence said. "Dinner, for example. I'm hungry!" She really didn't need to be reminded of anything related to her old life. She just wanted to leave her past behind.

"Oh. I heard they'll be serving roasted chicken with sweet potatoes tonight."

"Sounds good." Florence said. She took a hair brush and combed her pale blond curls.

"See, she looks lovely!"

Florence turned around to see two feather dusters standing at the doorstep. One was a plain duster, who kindly smiled at her, the other one made of ivory, smooth one, longer and slimmer than the other one, with longer feathers. She looked at her disparagingly. "Well, she isn't...ugly, I guess. Still, Lumiere completely overrated her looks." Her voice sounded haughty and disinterested. Of course, Florence wasn't ready to let such a remark slide.

"Well, excuse me that I just refuse to live up to your beauty standards, Miss Dusty Feather."

The taller duster huffed, while her friend couldn't hold back a chuckle. "How dare you, you filthy peasant! And you, Babette, stop laughing. I'm your superior!"

"No, you're not, Nicole! Stop thinking so highly of yourself!" Babette answered. "You might have been transformed into a more unique shape, but you are just a maid."

"Just a maid? JUST a maid?" Nicole yelled, her ivory cheeks slowly turning red. "Unlike you, the daughter of a mere cobbler, my parents were of wealth and title. Comte and Comtesse la Delle! Just because of a few debts..."

Florence awkwardly left the room. _Let those two fight their battles themselves. It's dinner time!_


	9. The Vision

_**I need to address something. I don't know if anyone who follows this, read my first version of the story when it was still up. The story at that point was a love triangle between Florence, Forte and an OC. And when I started this remake, it still was intended to include said triangle. Things have changed, though, and now Forte will no longer be included as a love interest. Instead, there'll be another new character to fill his place. Forte will still have a bigger part in this plot, but the interaction between him and Florence will be entirely platonic.**_

 _ **Just wanted to let people know, just in case someone has read the old version, so they won't get confused later on.**_

* * *

 **The Vision**

Florence sat down at the table, the Beast hadn't arrived yet. Florence wondered how her mysterious host could be late to the dinner he himself had invited her to. She looked over the amount of food that had been placed on the table and felt her mouth water. Roasted chicken, sweet potatoes, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes soup and Crème brûlée for dessert. Florence had rarely eaten such delicious food. Her mother had barely earned enough to afford a bit of meat every Sunday. Most of the other days they ate bread and cheese.

Something else that caught Florences attention was the red liquid that filled her rounded glass. She had never tried red wine, or any other kind of wine for that matter. Again, her mother was responsible for that. She remembered her words well: _Alcoholic beverages will only cause trouble!_

She kind of understood her mother's point, but then again, one glass wouldn't turn her into a drunk, would it? She took the glass into her hand and took a small sip. It didn't taste too least, not as bad as the beer Aunt Annabelle had once let her try.

She put the glass back on the table and looked around. "Where is he now?" she wondered and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Mrs Potts asked.

"I'll be looking for the Beast!" Florence sat and left the dining room. Just when she had exited the room she heard music from above. A somber, gloomy melody, a symphony of dread and despair. No doubt, someone was playing an organ up there. "Could it be...the Master?"

She slowly walked up, heading for the west wing. Once she had arrived in front of a tall door, there was no doubt. That was where the music came from. She gently pushed the door open to peek inside. "Excuse me?" she asked. The music stopped and she looked up. What she saw then almost led her to scream. In front of her was a huge pipe organ. A creepy, mask like face stared down at her. "Who are you?"

"I...um...I..." she stuttered, but the intimidating sight of that instrument made her speechless.

"Florence!"

She turned to the side and spotted the Beast. He angrily glared at her. "Florence, what are you doing here,in the west wing? Didn't I tell you it's forbidden?"

"I..." she gulped, confused about his anger. "I don't think you did, to be honest. Besides, what are you hiding here that-"

"I didn't?! Well, " he stood up and pushed her out. "Now you know. So, why are you here anyway?"

"I was waiting for you. Dinner is getting cold!"

"Din-" the Beast mumbled. "Oh, I almost forgot! Forte!" He turned to the organ. "I won't need you tonight."

"You WHAT?"

"Is there a problem?" the Beast asked.

The organ, Forte, cleared his throat. "No, Master. Of course not."

"Very well." The Beast looked at Florence. She once again stared at the pipe organ. "Shall we, then?" the Beast growled.

"Huh? Oh, of course!"

Both of them walked back down to the dinen room. Forte scowled.

"He won't need me? I knew this day would come. Some...some...girl comes along and Forete is no longer important."

"B-but Maestro, it's just tonight."

"Oh, now it's just tonight, but just wait a few weeks and that hussy will have him wrapped around her skinny fingers, Fife."

"You really think she'd do that?" Fife asked, looking up to his Maestro.

"I know! They are all the same! We need to think! Think of a plan to rid ourselves of that brat!"

* * *

Florence had eaten more than ever before. Now she felt perfectly stuffed. "It was delicious. I can't wait for tomorrow night."

"I...I hope being near me didn't disgust you too much. You said my appearance doesn't bother you, but I know you just said it to spare my feelings. You don't need to. I don't deserve it. I know, what I am. A hideous, monstrous Beast, not worth being loved or even being pitied. I deserve every second of my suffering!"

Florence looked at him, confusion in her sapphire eyes. "Don't be silly. I said it, 'cause I meant it!" She gently put a hand on his arm. "In my old village there was a man. He was a true monster. Everyone adores him for his good looks, strength, his bravery and hunting skills, however he truly is not worth the love and praise. I saw him beat up a man for a little bit of money. And then he still had the nerve to ask for my hand in marriage. No! Not ask, demand!"

"He sounds...horrible..."

"He was...I hope one day he will get what he deserves."

"Me too!" the Beast said darkly. "Oh, how I wish I could be the one to deliver it to him!"

For a moment Florence thought she recognized something in his eyes: A memory.

Maybe the Beast had known someone like Gaston...someone who never got what he deserved. Suddenly she saw the dining room disappear and turn into a different room. A throne room, where a handsome young man sat on his thrones, a frown on his haughty face. He looked down at another young man who was held down by two strong guards. The prisoner himself didn't seem to old, but Florence could not see his face properly. He had dark brown curls that his his face, which faced the ground.

"You disgust me!" the Prince said. "A criminal, part of my court? No way!" he sneered. "Guards, take that scum to the tower and let him rot! It's Christmas eve and I have no time to be bothered with some execution. We will arrange that after the holidays are over!"

Before Florence could react, the world blurred once again and she found herself back in the dining room, the Beast looking at her in confusion.

"Wh...what just happened?" Florence muttered.

"What do you mean? You just sat there...staring at nothing. I asked if something was wrong, but you didn't respond."

"I...I was in a throne room. There was a prince...he sentenced some man to death...on Christmas eve..."

Suddenly the Beast stood up, an anxious expression on his face. "What?"

"Maybe it's because of those..." she looked at her hands. "Those magical abilities I now posses. Do...do you know what that vision could mean?"

"No!" the Beast shouted, making Florence flinch in response. The Beast looked at her, upset. "I...I need to go back to my room! And...and you should go back to yours!" Immediately, he rushed off, out of the room.

"Oh my," Mrs Potts said. "I hoped this evening would end on a more positive note!"

"I...why is he so upset? He does know what happened, doesn't he?" Florence asked, grimly looking at the chair the Beast had sat on.

"My dear, this is something you should ask him." Mrs Potts said, her eyes gleaming with concern.

"But you heard him!"

"When he's ready! Anyway, it's getting rather late, child. Maybe you should go to bed now."

Florence sighed, but then she relented, stood up and walked out of the door, up to her room.

On her way she met Lumiere, Cogsworth and Babette, who all asked her about the dinner. Florence told them all that happened, including the strange vision. Immidiately, all of them turned pale.

"Oh...no..." Babette whispered.

"It was the day...the day we were cursed!"

"Lumiere!" Cogsworth scolded his friend. "Be quiet! We shouldn't talk about it. Neither the curse, nor that...man..."

Florence really longed to know who that man could have been, but she realized that she wouldn't recieve an answer tonight, so she turned her attention to a more pleasant topic. "Talking about Christmas eve...it's merely a week from now. Og, I've always wanted to know how Christmas in a castle is like."

The three servants gasped. "Florence...our Master hates Christmas! It was the day..."

"...you were cursed, I know. But it's not the holidays fault, is it? The Beast should direct his anger at the responsible person, the Enchantress." Florence said, shaking her head. "He shouldn't ruin the joy for everybody else. Christmas is, after all, a time of hope."

"Maybe it is to you." Cogsworth muttered. "To us it is a time of sorrow and memories of better days long gone.

"I don't know, Cogsworth. A little celebration to lighten our darkness seems like an opportunity.," Lumiere said with a melancholy smile.

"Oh, yes," Babette giggled. "Don't you remember, Lumiere? Our first kiss was underneath a mistletoe." She put her head on his shoulder and gave her a gentle look.

Cogsworth however merely shook his head. "I'm sorry, Florence. The Master wouldn't want that."

"Since when do you speak for him?"

"I know him. Much longer than you do. _He. Hates. Christmas!_ "

"Then I. Will. Help. Him. Love. It. Again!" Florence answered, her hands on her hips."

"I can assure you, my dear. You nor any other girl on this world, no matter how kind, smart or beautiful she might be, will ever convince him to give Christmas a chance!" Cogsworth huffed, turned around and walked off.

"Well, what about a secret Christmas party, just for the servants." Lumiere suggested. "We don't have to tell Cogsworth either, he can be such a tattle tale."

"Or Nicole!" Florence said. "She seems insufferable, from what I can tell. "

"She is!" Babette said. "No one really likes her, so I sometimes spend time with her, I kinda feel sorry for her. She is just so immature and vain. Always talks about how beautiful she used to be."

"True. Anyway, if we do this, then we need to prepare all we need. We've just got a week."

"Ohoho, don't worry, mon ami! We will take care of everything. I can't wait. We haven't celebrated in years!" Lumiere cheered, as the three of them walked off, to Florences room.

Unknown to them, a slender feather duster stood in the shadows, behind the corner, teeth clenched and tears in her eyes.

"How dare these peasants talk behind my back like this. That two faced Babette and her annoying lover. And that disgusting, useless, worthless, pathetic, ugly Florence!" she shrieked to herself. "Why can't she just leave..." Nicole sighed, her lips turned into a pout. Suddenly, she got struck by an idea. "Very well, it is merely a week until Christmas," she said with a cruel smirk, "and I think I just thought of the perfect gift."


End file.
